“Moth Flight!” Her mother’s stern mew made her jump.
“What?”
“Didn’t you hear me?”
Moth Flight stared in dismay. No.
“I told you to go with Dust Muzzle and hunt out the prey around that gorse patch.” Wind Runner nodded toward a clump of prickly bushes downslope. “Gorse Fur and I will check the high burrows for rabbits.”
Dust Muzzle frowned. “Can’t I hunt rabbits too?”
“Stay with your sister,” Wind Runner told him. “She’s not fast enough for rabbits and if I let her hunt alone, she’ll probably end up bringing home nothing but leaves.” She stared at Moth Flight. “And leaves don’t fill empty bellies.”
Moth Flight turned away and stomped down the slope.
Dust Muzzle quickly caught up. “Ignore her,” he advised.
“Her bad mood won’t last.”
“It’s my fault she’s in a bad mood in the first place.” Moth
Flight padded on, not looking at her brother. “She’s going to torture me all day just because I fell asleep.”
“You were supposed to be looking after Slate’s kits,” Dust Muzzle reminded her gently.
“They were okay, weren’t they? I rescued them!” Moth
Flight lashed her tail. It wasn’t like she didn’t try to be a good cat. “Why can’t Wind Runner be pleased with that?”
Dust Muzzle didn’t answer, but walked closer to Moth
Flight, his pelt brushing hers. “Let’s forget about it and catch something tasty.” He slowed as they neared the gorse.
The grass around the prickly bushes rippled like water in the wind. Moth Flight flattened her ears to block out the sound of the breeze. She tasted the air, hoping for prey scent. Dust
Muzzle was right. If she could take home some prey, Wind Runner would be pleased, surely?
Dust Muzzle halted. “I wonder if Willow Tail caught up with Red Claw?”
“I hope not.” Moth Flight remembered Willow Tail’s anger at the SkyClan cat. “What if she starts a fight? She might get hurt.”
“She wouldn’t attack him on her own.” Dust Muzzle lifted his muzzle, tasting the air. “She’s not a rabbit-brain.”
“But she seemed so angry with him.” Moth Flight fretted. “I know he was on our land, but he wasn’t hunting. It was like Willow Tail wanted to pick a fight with him.”
“Maybe.” Dust Muzzle’s gaze was fixed on the shadows beneath the gorse. “But she and Wind Runner were right, too: They have sunny clearings on SkyClan territory. Maybe he was up to something.”
“Maybe,” Moth Flight murmured. But she didn’t believe it.
Am I crazy to trust Red Claw?
“Anyway,” Dust Muzzle went on, “the next Gathering’s the day after tomorrow. We can see if she causes more trouble then.”
Moth Flight was still thinking. “They were rogues together,” she began, relishing the gossip. It was a nice change from worrying about Wind Runner. But as she spoke, Dust Muzzle dropped into a crouch.
Moth Flight froze and followed his gaze. A shrew was rooting in the grass below a gorse branch.
Her paws itched with excitement. “Let me catch it!” she whispered.
Dust Muzzle gave a tiny nod, his gaze still on the shrew.
Sinking low, Moth Flight crept forward. The shrew buried its snout deep into the grass. It has no idea I’m here. Delighted, Moth Flight leaped, pushing hard with her hind legs. Too hard!
She sailed into the gorse, crashing through the branches. The prickles stabbed her nose and she screwed up her eyes to protect them. Recoiling with a yowl, she tripped over Dust Muzzle as he darted past her.
Finding her paws, she rubbed her nose, wincing at the sting.
A moment later Dust Muzzle scrambled from beneath the bush. The shrew dangled from his jaws, dead.
“You got it!” Moth Flight blinked at him proudly. “I wish I was as good at hunting as you.”
Dust Muzzle laid the shrew at her paws. “You will be one day. Until then, why don’t we tell Wind Runner you caught this?”
Moth Flight bristled. “I don’t need your help!” she snapped, then felt instantly guilty as hurt flashed in her brother’s eyes.
“I’m sorry. That’s really kind of you. But I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not. I’m useless at hunting.”
“You just need practice.” Dust Muzzle leaned forward and licked her nose. “You’re bleeding,” he mewed as he pulled away.
“I am?” Moth Flight sighed. Wind Runner would guess she’d crashed into the gorse bush.
“Give it a wash,” Dust Muzzle suggested. “It’ll hardly show.” He scooped up the shrew and headed upslope.
“Aren’t we hunting anymore?” Moth Flight called after him.
“I think we’ve frightened away all the prey around here.”
Dust Muzzle’s mew was muffled by the shrew. “Let’s help Wind Runner and Gorse Fur hunt rabbits.”
Moth Flight followed him, her ears twitching. She’d ruined the hunt.
As they neared the burrows dotting the high moor, Moth
Flight was surprised to see her parents sitting side by side. Why weren’t they hunting? They faced Highstones, their backs to Moth Flight and Dust Muzzle. Wind ruffled their fur, and their heads were bent in conversation.
Their words caught on the wind as she and Dust Muzzle neared.
“Don’t be so hard on her.” Gorse Fur was pleading.
Moth Flight slowed, Dust Muzzle slowing with her.
“It’s about time she grew up and took responsibility,” Wind Runner snapped. “She’s not a kit anymore. I don’t make allowances for the rest of my Clan! Why should I make them for her?”
Moth Flight felt Dust Muzzle glance at her. Her pelt prickled uncomfortably along her spine and she didn’t return his gaze.
Her parents were talking about her!
“She’s not irresponsible,” Gorse Fur argued, his tone hardening. “She just notices things other cats don’t. She gets distracted, that’s all.”
“When there are mouths to feed and kits to protect, she shouldn’t be distracted,” Wind Runner’s tail lashed behind her.
“Dust Muzzle isn’t always getting into trouble. Why can’t she be more like him?”
“Dust Muzzle will make a fine hunter one day, but Moth
Flight is special,” Gorse Fur pressed. “Can’t you see that?”
Wind Runner stared at her mate, blankly. “WindClan doesn’t need special cats. It needs hunters and fighters!”
Special! Moth Flight growled. “They think I’m rabbit-brained!” she said softly.
Dust Muzzle dropped the shrew. “Gorse Fur is just trying to explain that you’re different from other cats.”
Moth Flight glared at him. “Y ou think I’m different, too?”
“Not in a bad way.” Dust Muzzle blinked at her uneasily.
“I don’t want to be different!” Moth Flight hissed.
“Moth Flight!” Gorse Fur turned. “Are you two back already?” His mew was sharp with surprise.
Wind Runner was staring at the shrew. “Is that all you caught?”
“That’s all there was,” Dust Muzzle dipped his head.
Wind Runner snorted. “I suppose Moth Flight tripped over her tail and scared the other prey away.”
Moth Flight couldn’t meet her mother’s gaze. She’d guessed right away that it was her fault, without even noticing the scratch on her nose. Moth Flight clenched her teeth, anger and hurt pulsing through her. I can be just as good as any other Clan cat! Determined to impress her mother, she scanned the moortop desperately for something she could catch. With a rush of relief she spotted a lapwing, stalking through the rippling grass beyond the rise. She dropped into a crouch and padded toward it.